


Slow

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom Jensen Ackles, First Time Bottoming, M/M, Protective Misha Collins, Rimming, Top Misha Collins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 03:41:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19417759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Jensen wants it but he’s more than a little nervous about letting any part of Misha in him.Misha knows Jensen just needs to take it slow.





	Slow

**Author's Note:**

> So this never happened.

All Misha does is touch him and Jensen almost rears off the bed. 

Misha raises his hands, face clouding with worry, and Jensen slumps back, hands covering his shame.

“Sorry,” he says, words muffled behind his fingers. “Just…”

He doesn’t flinch this time when Misha’s hand settles on his knee; his thumb gently strokes Jensen’s skin.

“We don’t have to,” Misha says. “There’s other stuff we can do, Jen.”

There might be, but Jensen doesn’t want to do other stuff. He wants to do this, he wants to do it with Misha, and he hates himself a whole lot then for being a fucking coward.

Misha tugs his hands down and he’s looking at Jensen like all the puppies in the world just vanished in the snap, so probably Jensen said some or all of that out loud.

“Slow,” Misha says. “You deserve to take things at your own pace and right now, I’d say that’s slow.”

But Jensen never does slow. When there’s something coming he knows he wants to, has to, do, and his brain is backing up, he only knows one tactic.

Run at it. Like the first time he got on a horse, his first audition, his first kiss.

And now, this, so he pulls Misha down for a kiss, and then spreads his legs a little wider.

Knows he looks wanton as fuck, but that’s kind of accurate, and it must do funny things to Misha because he takes in a sharp breath and his fingers are trembling when they stroke down the inside of Jensen’s thighs.

“If you want me to stop,” he says.

Jensen nods, he knows…. One word from him and Misha will back right off. He’s safe here, Misha would never do anything to hurt or distress him.

And then Misha’s finger is slowly teasing around his rim, dipping in so barely it’s more presence than pressure.

Jensen reaches up to grab the slats of the headboard between both hands, tries to fool himself; what it’d be like if his hands were bound to it, his legs tied open, Misha driving him wild with pleasure.

They’d done that before, Misha blowing him, and he tells himself this is just a natural progression.

He realises Misha’s not moving anymore, and looks at him to see that worried look is back.

“C’mon,” Jensen says.

Misha shakes his head. “You look like you want to run out of here, naked or not. Possibly screaming in panic. I’m not going to hurt you, Jen, but I really think we should do this another time.”

_Or not at all_. Misha says it when he doesn’t.

And, no matter how Jensen tries to persuade him, it doesn’t change things.

Even losing his temper doesn’t work, though it does drive Misha out of the apartment, in an attempt to stop things escalating, and that leaves Jensen stewing angrily for the rest of the night.

++

“Huh,” is all Jared says.

Jensen stands there, cringing like he’s expecting _what_ he doesn’t know, but not _huh_.

He opens his eyes to find Jared reading a magazine and apparently not fully participating in Jensen sharing his moment of shame.

He doesn’t know if the _huh_ is for him or whatever has the lion’s share of Jared’s attention.

“Jared.”

Jared looks up, sees the pissed off expression Jensen can feel like an ache in his facial muscles, and shrugs.

“If you wanna do it, just do it, dude. If you don’t…”

Jensen slumps down next to him on the couch. Of course, Jared would think it’s that simple.

“I do. It’s just…”

Jared puts the magazine away. “Never done it before. Nervous.”

He is, and he’s not sure why. Misha’s talked him through it, even got Jensen to play with him a little, like that, and explained what Jensen could expect to feel.

He just…. If he lets him, Misha is going to be putting certain body parts in his ass, and as far as Jensen’s concerned…

It’s a one way door, you know, with some nasty stuff on the other side.

Jared must see where his head’s gone, and he chuckles. “Look, one time Gen kind of fancied trying something a little different, so…”

Jensen sits up, giving his friend a sharp look. “You’ve _done_ this?”

Jared pets his shoulder, settles him down. “Easy, Jen. Yeah. It was...weird, I’m not gonna lie, and I had to clean myself out first, but I got off, she got off, and it was worth the effort.”

Jensen grumbles out his and Misha’s first attempt, his busted-mental-fantasy coping mechanism (Jared shakes his head: _right because being tied to the bed for that would clearly have been **so** much better_) and then being such an ass at Misha, because Misha wouldn’t push on with something Jensen clearly wasn’t ready for, that he drove Misha out of their apartment.

Jared’s mouth is hanging open. “Damn, Jensen. You spoke to him since?”

He’s…. He wants to say he’s tried, but trying amounts to picking up the phone, and looking at Misha’s two texts (one from last night, _goodnight, it’s okay, I still love you, but some space is good for us on this_ and one from that morning _hey, Jensen, just checking in to make sure you’re okay, good morning, I love you_ ) and then tossing his phone down in frustration and stubbornness.

And maybe because part of him wants to wound Misha a little for…

For what, he isn’t sure.

He tells all of that to Jared as well.

Jared picks up Jensen’s phone from where he’d dumped it on the table when he came barrelling in, and pushes it into his hands.

“Call him, let him know you’re okay, that he isn’t bounced to the kerb, and find someplace private to talk this out. Not the bedroom. I’ll give you some time, okay?”

He heads off, Jensen can hear him puttering around somewhere in the house, and then he dials Misha’s number.

++

“Okay, so I’m not tying you to the bed for this,” Misha says.

Jensen nods hard; now his head’s a little clearer, he can see being restrained in the middle of sexual panic would not have been good at all.

“And we’re going to do it in stages,” he says. “Just slow, okay?”

Jensen kind of feels like he should be getting out a diary or something.

_Friday, 8pm: getting fingered by Misha. Pinkie only._

Maybe a nice wall planner instead?

He chuckles at the thought of it, and then actually laughs imagining Jared coming in and seeing it up there, the schedule arranged for Misha’s drawn out siege of Jensen’s ass, and then he’s gone, lost to it.

He has to try and explain, in between howling and trying to breathe, to Misha what the hell is so funny, and Misha just gets this long suffering but affectionate look about him.

“It is just as well you’re cute, cowboy,” he says, and ends up petting Jensen’s back while his breathing gets under control.

++

It’s just a pinkie, Jensen reminds himself. The tiniest most useless digit on the human hand. 

He’s still breathing like the room is low on air, and Misha’s staring down at him with a mixture of concern and fondness that Jensen’s so used to seeing there when he’s about to do something dumb or work himself into a frenzy over something (like the time that stripy little snake got into his trailer somehow - it was Jared, he’s never admitted it, but it was Jared, and the city boy had to come rescue his bold Texan).

“You can start to push anytime,” Misha says.

Jensen cranes his neck to look at the other man, and makes use of a different digit then, prompting a grin.

“You’re fucking hilarious,” he says, but he’s grinning himself, and Misha’s sass helps a little, and he groans when those delicate fingers stroke their way down his tummy, tingling along his cock, until they’re once again circling his hole.

This is it. He tries not to tense up, almost manages it, but then Misha’s licking wide strips along his dick, and that feels so fucking good Jensen just slumps boneless on the bed as he gets worked over.

Then he feels it, just a moment of pressure, and something’s in him.

He can’t go taut though, not with that mouth on him, Misha humming around his flesh, and even though he can feel the finger Misha has in him, crooking and moving in and out in tiny little jerks, his body seems to be too distracted by the pleasure elsewhere to really take note and then he’s coming.

Misha politely grabs a hankie and disposes of Jensen’s load, and then sips some water.

“Okay?”

Jensen manages to prop himself up on wobbly elbows.

He kind of feels like a little kid getting distracted with a lollipop or something at the doctor’s while a nurse gives him a shot and it makes him glare at Misha because, you know, trickery or something.

Misha looks kind of smug as he smiles back at him, and Jensen whacks him in the face with his pillow.

But, yeah, okay.

++

Two days later, Misha has two fingers in his ass, just holding them there, while Jensen takes slow breaths, and reminds himself there will come a point where this feels worth it.

And then Misha does something, Jensen doesn’t know what, and boom, its like somebody found a switch inside him and just flipped it on.

He almost rears up, but Misha has one hand on his abdomen, keeping him in place, and mutters soothing nonsense at him as Jensen once more reaches up to grab the headboard.

He needs something to squeeze, to ride out this out because his body is jittering.

“Third finger,” Misha says, and Jensen kind of wishes now, even though he wanted a play by play, that Misha would stop announcing it.

By the time they’re up to four, it’s a kind of tight pleasure-pain that makes him feel like he’s riding the edge, and he’s going to topple right over anytime, and then he does.

His ass bears down around Misha’s fingers, without his say, his body locking up as he comes, and then Misha’s stroking his hair, hugging him close.

“Did I just pass out,” Jensen asks, groggily.

Misha shakes his head. “Not _medically_ , but you kind of got a little lost on me. You’re back now.”

Jensen nods. He lets Misha sit him up, pour some water into him, and nudge him to eat some chocolate while Misha uses a damp cloth to clean him up.

If this is what being fingered feels like, Jensen isn’t sure he’ll survive anything more.

Still, maybe not the worst hill to go out on.

++

That would be the rimming.

++

It’s not that he didn’t enjoy it, because he knows how talented Misha’s tongue can be even in ways that have nothing to do with the bedroom, but even as he’s coming like a freight train with no brakes heading down a hill, his head (traitorous fucker) keeps reminding him that…

That Misha’s tongue is in his ass. 

His cleaned out, no doubt nearly sterile, ass but still.

He may never be able to kiss Misha again, and he really likes kissing Misha, so as far as that little sexual adventure goes?

One and done.

Except...now he’s ready for more.

++

He’s ready, loose and prepped, a pillow under his chest for some extra comfort and support (if he’s hugging it like a comfort buddy, neither of them comment) and Misha very, very slowly just slips into him.

It’s not exactly easy going; a few sessions of fingering and a pre-sex massage aren’t magic, and Jensen has to remind himself to breathe, that this is going to feel good, for Misha to really get inside him.

But once he is, seated and holding for Jensen to just get used to him, the fullness feels a hundred times more amazing than Misha’s fingers coaxing him to climax.

And then Misha moves.

It’s like every part of him explodes at once, pleasure zinging through his body like there’s so much of it that it needs every inch of space available.

He finds himself reaching back with one hand and Misha’s fingers lock around his and it’s no surprise he comes fast, so new to this, and he lies there after, boneless, head out of it, as Misha keeps fucking him, until he comes as well.

It hurts a little when he pulls out, but just a twinge of discomfort compared to how good, worked over, he feels.

Misha settles behind him and pulls him tight into his arms, spooning him.

Usually Jensen is the big spoon, but since Misha just fucked him off line he’ll let it slide.

He snuggles back, and twists his head enough to seek, and get, a kiss.

“So,” Misha says.

Jensen grins. Later, when he’s recovered, he’ll be able to enthusiastically respond (though he thinks his body’s reactions tell it all) but right now, he just wants Misha to hold him while he sleeps.

“So,” he says, yawning, and Misha chuckles at him.

“Rest, Jen,” he says. “I’ll be here.”


End file.
